The Girl, On The Bike

It was later, after a long sparring session, and I walked out of the shower that Simon approached me. "You're taking the fight then?"

"Yeah."

"Good, did he say anything about any deals?"

"Nope, nothing."

"He will; what we want is for you to agree."

"I'm not smuggling drugs," I snapped back anxiously.

"Ross, we'll clear it with customs and the Aussie authorities. We will wait until he takes the package, and we'll jump him. We'll make it look like we're busting you, as well, so there's no comeback on you. Later, we'll release you."

"He'll still know I ratted on him. He's going to be pissed at me, and if he is in bed with Aussie gangs, they're going to be pissed, as well."

"Ross, they aren't going to care. They will already have their money. Glover isn't clever enough to connect you to this. We will make it clear that we have been tracking him for a long time."

"I'll help out, but I want some guarantees. I'm not walking through customs without being one hundred percent confident that it's okay."

"I'll get you down to the station. You can meet the team, and I will even get some customs guys in. This is big, Ross. I wouldn't be asking you to do it if I wasn't confident."

"Simon, I'm probably going to get my arse kicked, anyway. I might be coming back in a pine box."

He chuckled softly. "I don't think so, Ross. From what I have seen, you can win, mate."

"Wish I shared your confidence."

"Work with Tom; he is good. He knows his stuff, mate."

Sarah freaked when I told her. "No, Ross, please don't do it. There has to be enough evidence already to cast doubts over Selwyn, and my charges. Let's just take our chances."

"No, Sarah, I want to make sure, and I'll get some sort of assurance from the police. If I help them, then they will clear you. If they won't give that, then I'm not doing it."

Magically, we were in each others arms, kissing passionately. Her hot body moulded to mine, her lips fastened to mine, so tightly.

Our relationship was quickly regaining its old fervour. Sarah slept over more nights than she went home, and my wardrobe quickly overflowed with her clothes. My vanity in the bathroom looked more like a cosmetics stand at a shopping mall.

All signs were that we were slipping back into life together. She was always on my mind; okay, I was also worried about this fight and all of the surrounding consequences, including being used as some sort of fall guy by the cops. If they failed in their attempts to get Glover, they would just lumber me with it.

Of course, there was the fear that Glover, would find out I was involved and decide that I should take a swim wearing my new concrete gumboots.

There was no end of worries, but in amongst all of them was Sarah. Once you are involved in something like this and real dangers surround you, your vision becomes clear. Sarah and I burned our relationship through poor communication and sheer stubbornness.

I wanted her back, that was not up for discussion. We definitely needed to talk. We had been skirting around the edges of it, but without ever actually talking about it.

Getting home late from the gym, I found Sarah at home, my dinner waiting patiently in the warming drawer of the oven. As always, she met me with a cuddle and kiss. As we separated, I held her tightly. "Could we talk tonight please, Sarah?"

Her face dropped, and a very serious expression crossed her countenance. "Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all. I just want to talk about where we are, and where we're going."

Her arms dropped from around my shoulders, and she said, "Oh, really?"

We walked into the dining room and sat nervously at the table. "Sarah, I am just going to say it. I love you, and I want you in my life forever. At the moment, we have slipped back into a relationship. I don't want it to blow up in our faces like it did last time."

Her frown twitched and her mouth curled into a nervous smile. "Ross, I love you. I know we stuffed it up the first time. It doesn't scare me. I learned a lot over the last six months. I learned, that my friends weren't really my friends, and the only person aside from my family who believed in me, who supported me, was you. Now I know what a fool I was. I never want that to happen again. Ross, I want to be your wife, and I will do anything to make that happen."

I closed my eyes and whispered. "Wait here a moment." I walked up to the bedroom to get her old engagement ring from the bedside cabinet. When I opened the drawer, it was gone. I ripped everything out, I got down on my knees in a mad panic, wondering if I had knocked it onto the floor.

As I was on my knees, Sarah walked in behind me. "Are you looking for something in particular?"

Glancing up at her, I sighed. "Yeah, you could say that."

She reached down into the front of her blouse, and pulled out the ring, which dangled on a gold chain. "It wouldn't be this, would it?"

Jumping to my feet in shock, I gasped. "Yes, it would actually."

"Ross, I'm sorry. I found it the other day, and I have been wearing it ever since. Throwing this away was the stupidest thing I ever did."

I slipped my arms around her waist and pulled her into a tight embrace. "You would like it back then?"

"Sorry, Ross, but I have already got it and you are never getting it back. I want to wear it on my finger, though, so everybody can see it."

I ran my hands up her sides and reached behind her neck. Unclipping the necklace clasp, I removed the ring, grabbed her left hand and slid the ring on her finger. "Sarah, will you marry me."

She sniggered. "The question is, do you want to marry a criminal, who has no job, no income and everybody in the country hates?"

"None of that is true. Once the truth comes out, you can get your life back on track."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yes, I want to marry you. Yes, I want you in my life, and yes, I am in love with you."

Her mouth crashed against mine, and we kissed. She wriggled and squirmed as she nestled in closely against me, the heat of her body sending my temperature soaring.

That night was incredible; we started talking about the future, what would happen after Glover and Roberts were locked away. "Ross, if I can get my cycling career back, I won't make the same mistakes I did last time. I still want to win, I still want that Olympic gold medal. But I also want our life to be happy, I want you to be comfortable."

"Sarah, all I ever wanted was for you to spend more time at home. I never wanted you to give up on your dreams. I want you to get that gold medal, as well."

"I am so glad to hear you say that. How are we going to manage this trip to Australia?"

"I have a meeting down at the police station this week. I want a written assurance that I'm not going to get left holding the baby if their operation goes belly up. Plus, I want a guarantee that you will be cleared, or its no go."

"Do you think they will give you that?"

"I hope so. I want the bastard behind bars."

*****

My meeting with the police and customs officials was going okay until I said, "Everything you said is good, and I am happy to play along. To make that happen. I want a written guarantee that if it all goes tits up, I don't get left holding the baby."

The chief constable gave me a condescending stare. "Sounds like you don't trust us."

"That would be a fair comment. Look what happened to Sarah. You know she is innocent, and yet she has been hung out to dry. I want a guarantee that she is cleared as well. We are not going to be your scapegoats if you get it wrong."

It was Simon who intervened. "Ross, this can't work if we don't all trust each other."

"Simon, you guys, by your own admission, have been trying to nail Glover for a long time. Unsuccessfully, I might add. I'm not going to be thrown under the bus if you stuff it up again."

"Young man," the chief constable said forcefully, "we are not giving you anything in writing. We operate on trust. We have to trust you, I see no reason why you cannot do the same." He was a tall man, physically imposing and clearly used to getting his own way.

"If that's the case, then I'm out. You will be getting no help from me." I stood up from the table, and turned for the door. "Good day, and good luck."

"Ross," Simon called loudly. "Walk out that door, and you're consigning Sarah to a criminal record of drug importation."

"That, my friend, is exactly why I don't trust you. You know she is innocent, but you're prepared to see her suffer. You're no better than the bloody criminals. You should be ashamed of yourselves. But, hey, don't worry, I've got enough recorded conversations to save Sarah. It won't show the police in a good light, either, and yes. I am talking about going to the media."

I slammed the door behind me as I stormed out of the office. At least the bloody crims were open. These bastards were worse, hiding behind their badges.

I took all my frustrations out on the punching bag. I felt sorry for Tom; he suffered as well. His hands must have been sore as hell.

"Fucking hell, bro. What's got into you tonight? Jesus, there's some sting in those shots."

"Bad day at the office, mate."

"Well, bugger me. I hope you can carry this into the ring against Fidman. You'll fucking smash the bastard."

It was as I walked out and was climbing on my bike that my phone rang. "Ross, meet me around the corner."

I heard a car start over the road, and Simon drove off. Climbing on my bike, I pedalled off in pursuit. Just in front of the Wilson's car park, I saw Simon standing by his car. I pulled to a stop beside him.

"You have your wish." He said, handing me an envelope. "It's official, and has been notarised. It absolves you of any blame and it will clear Sarah."

Grasping the envelope, I nodded my acknowledgement. "Thanks, Simon. What changed their minds?"

"I think your closing comment about how we treated Sarah. We would never have followed through. We were always going to make sure Roberts was pilloried for trying to frame her."

"Again, thanks, Simon. What happens now?"

Just keep doing what you have been doing. At some point he is going to come and ask you for that favour. Don't jump at it, make him work for it, but eventually, agree."

The training ramped up as the fight drew closer. I spent more time sparring. We had a guy named Joseph who fought a lot like this guy Fidman. Tom spent hours analysing Fidman, and he developed the strategy to take him down. He was a martial artist: a Tae kwondo master. He used a lot of kicks, and he was a grappler. He used Judo, and Aikido holds. Above all, he was strong. At least he looked that way in all the video clips I watched.

He was going to be a formidable opponent, one I wasn't really ready for. How Glover managed to get me the fight was anybody's guess. I figured, whoever he was dealing with must be as dirty as he was. There was no way I should have been offered this fight.

Glover, for his part, made sure he came in to training every night and leaned over the ropes, watching while I sparred. He yelled his encouragement, urging me forward. Afterward, he took me up to his office and provided drinks and a friendly chat. He suggested I give him as much cash as I could raise, and he would bet it on my behalf. "Rosco, I tell ya, mate. The Aussie bookies are idiots. They have Fidman at seven to one. If you have a couple of grand to play with, you could make a tidy profit."

"I don't have a lot of cash. Not spare, anyway. I'll see what I can raise."

"You'd be a mug not to."

Sarah became nervous and pleaded with me not to go. I understood her reluctance, but we now had a lot to lose. If I helped out, she was going to be cleared. I didn't want to lose that. There was a flip side, which I hadn't spoken to her about. I was looking forward to it. I wanted the fight.

It started innocuously, but I loved it, the physicality of it, the brutality; it brought out something in me that had lain dormant. Now it was out, I didn't want to lock it away.

This was going to be a real contest. No easy wins over there. To win in front of Aussie judges, it would have to be a comprehensive victory. If it went to points, I had no chance. It was Tom who showed me plenty of evidence of how parochial the local judges were.

I tried to start the conversation with Sarah several times, but she was so disparaging about the fighters, how they were nothing more than mindless thugs. Mostly gang members, she held them in very low regard. How could I tell her I loved not only the fighting, but the blokes down at the gym? They were rough, no question, but they were mostly pretty good guys. If you took out the handful of sadistic bullies, they were all right.

With only a few days left before we were due to fly out. I wondered if the police had got things wrong. Maybe Glover wasn't going to ask me to be his courier.

We were due to fly out on the Friday, and it was the Wednesday night when Glover invited me up to his office for a drink. As usual, we talked about the fight, the planning, and strategies. Then a few generalities, but I sensed it, he was tense, not his usual bullish self. We were three beers in before he popped the question. "Rosco, I have a favour to ask."

"Yeah, what's that Naylor?" I stared at him, intently. "I'm not taking a dive. So don't ask me to."

"Whoa, down boy. Shit, I would never ask that of you. Jesus kiddo. I've got a lot of money riding on you kicking his arse. No, this is something different."

"Yeah, okay then. What is it you want from me?"

"I have a package I want brought back through customs."

"A package? What sort of package?"

"It might be better if you didn't ask. The less you know, the less trouble you would be in."

"It's illegal then?"

"Yes, afraid so, mate."

"Is it drugs?"

"Not narcotics, if that's what you mean," he said firmly.

"What then, steroids?"

"Look, Rosco. It's a small package. I have done a lot for you. This fight wouldn't be happening if it wasn't for me. All I'm asking is for a small favour."

"Small favour, my arse. What happens if I get caught with this package?"

"You're not gonna get caught, kid. You're clean as a whistle. They won't even check your bag. You don't fit the profile. That's why I'm asking."

"But if I did get caught?"

"Rosco, if you were unlucky, you'd get a slap on the wrist and a fine. Steroids aren't a big deal anymore."

"Christ, I don't know, Naylor. This is big. I've never even had a parking ticket. Now you're asking me to traffic drugs."

"That's the beauty of it, kid. Nobody would ever suspect you. They're too busy looking out for their target villains."

"I'll think about it Naylor. I'm not making any promises, but I will consider it."

"Don't forget, any spare cash you have, give it to me, and I'll bet it on your behalf."

"I would love to, but I'm not a wealthy guy. I don't have a lot of cash laying around. Everything I have goes on my mortgage."

We left it at that. It wasn't until we were waiting at the airport on Friday morning that I gave him the nod. "Yeah, all right. I'll do it," I said, as we sat at the bar, having a couple of drinks.

He patted me on the back. "You won't regret it, kiddo."

After landing, we went straight to the arena to have a look around, get the feeling for the place. I had seen it on video, but it was far more imposing in reality. I was allowed to step into the ring, and get a feel for it. The fight was set for Saturday night, and it was going to be a big occasion.

We went into a gym space that Glover had organised, and I tried to work of the tiredness from being stuck in a plane for three hours.

The fight was on me before I had a chance to run. I will remember that walk down to the ring. People cheered crazily, the arena was packed. The noise was cacophonous. In the ring, we went through the usual preparations. When the ref called us into the middle for the final time, he laid down the law loudly. An overhead mic picked up everything, and I could hear it echoing around the arena.

With everybody chased out of the ring, we were sent to our corners to wait for the bell. My heart pounded ferociously, every fibre of my being stretched tight. Like a coiled spring, I waited, and when the bell rang, loud and clear, I shot out of the corner and intercepted my opponent who was only just starting to move. My plan was to get him early, and hopefully make him apprehensive.

It was a good plan. I did catch him unawares, and I landed the first couple of shots. Surprised, he might have been, but he adapted quickly, moving away. His feet were fast and he danced away, landing a jab on my chin for good measure. It stung, but it wasn't as bad as I expected. We circled, and he grabbed my arms, unleashing singing leg strikes, aiming for my knees and calves.

He caught me good, but wasn't expecting me to rush him. He let me go, trying to catch his balance, and that gave me the opening I hoped for. I got off four quick flurries of combinations, hard body shots, left, right, and again I felt him grimace, sucking in air.

I swirled quickly, leaning down and sweeping his legs. He fell backwards and I was on him in a flash. I landed a couple of good blows before he wrapped up my arms and rolled me over.

This was new. I had never fought somebody who could wrestle. He got me on my side, and as he got on top of me, he landed a couple of close shots. Not full-blooded, but they stung. I felt my mouth full with blood as he tried to get me in a headlock.

The ref, was a little slow to intervene. Staring into his eyes, I could see it was deliberate. He had obviously been told to allow Fidman, some leniency.

The ref, when he saw, I was getting free anyway, separated us, giving, Fidman, a telling off. As we came together again, I moved in quickly, landing a solid elbow strike to his nose. That sent him reeling, allowing me to get to my feet.

The ref waved me away, while Fidman, got to his feet as well. His whole face was covered in blood and he was struggling to breathe. As we circled back together, I ducked inside of a kick aimed at my head. Inside him, I snapped a kick to the back of his calf and he stumbled. I bounded back out of reach, before leaping in, sailing through the air with a superman punch, I smashed him hard in the face with an overhand right. He fell backwards against the cage, and I followed, hoping it was my chance to end it.

He had other ideas. He was expecting my follow up, and caught me in a clinch. He twisted so I was against the cage, and he started to slam knee strikes up into my ribs. His grip was so tight I couldn't free my hands. I tried blocking his knee strikes by landing a few of my own. It was old style Muai Tai fighting, something I wasn't prepared for. I could hear Tom screaming. "Get out of there," but I was trapped. He set me up well, and when I felt his grip loosen, I tried to move out of his clutches.

All that did was open me up for a wicked punch combo, which sent me reeling.

I momentarily lost my vision, as one of his punches landed on the side of my head. I had experienced something like this following a mountain bike accident. Concussion. My head spun, my eyes couldn't focus and it felt like everything was in slow motion.

Sensing his chance, Fidman raced in, looking for the early finish. He was quick too, and he might have got his win, except the bell caught him out. The ref jumped between us, and sent us to our corners.

Tom was in the ring quickly, doing his best to quell the bleeding. "Ross, we talked about this, bro. Don't let him wrestle you. You've got to be brave when you get in there, bro. Don't hold him, punch, fight your way out."

"Easy for you to say, Tom. I'm knackered."

"Suck it up, we've practised for this." I took a huge gulp of water, but before I was really ready, the bell rang and we were back at it. I tried to do as Tom ordered, but my muscles burned, there was bruising on my legs where his repeated leg strikes caught me. He landed a couple of snap kicks as well, and I was struggling. My only saviour was power. I wasn't landing as many punches, but mine hurt him a hell of a lot more than his hurt me.